


Wanderlust

by ancalime8301



Series: Case of the Headless Corpses [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Case Fic, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Murder Mystery, POV John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: More details finally come to light about the first headless victim.





	Wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #2, a [picture prompt](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/1755187.html), which I describe as: closeup of a table cluttered with porcelain dishes, many of them of Dutch make, plus two vaguely Asian figurines and an assortment of other curios

Now that we had a third victim, and the second to remain unidentified, Holmes was convinced that he was missing something fundamental in the clues so far discovered. Repeatedly he combed his notes and mine about the first unfortunate soul and went so far as to pay another visit to the collection where the body had been found. He even convinced Lestrade to allow us custody of the clothes the corpse had been wearing. The third man, whose head was still at large, seemed just as unremarkable as the first, which made our second victim, the unlucky Lieutenant Caplan, the outlier in having been traceable. 

As all of Holmes' efforts proved unfruitful, I became concerned about his state of mind even as I was sympathetic to his frustration. I voiced my worry one evening as he paced the sitting room, muttering to himself, rather than taking his ease before the fire. "Holmes, surely your efforts would be more productive if you allowed the land to lie fallow a while. Constantly treading the same paths of thought isn't doing your nerves any good."

"What would you advise, Doctor? That I go on holiday?" he growled.

"What I had in mind was accepting a smaller case to give your mind something else to work on. I know you have prospective clients," I said mildly, eyeing the envelopes jackknifed to the mantle. "Or, if you prefer, have a brandy while you read the evening paper. I'm nearly finished with it."

Holmes did not see fit to reply directly, but I heard liquid being poured behind me. When he held out my glass, I traded it for the paper, and he settled into his armchair with a sigh.

I was nursing the last of my brandy when Holmes' discontented rustling of the paper ceased and he abruptly bounded out of his chair. "What is it, Holmes?" I asked with trepidation while he rooted in his desk drawer and closed it with a bang.

He did not answer until he'd scribbled a telegram and bellowed for Mrs. Hudson. "Holiday, my dear doctor. Our first victim was on holiday, and his associates are only now advertising his absence."

The next morning saw us on the first train to Northampton. I had my doubts about whether the brief notice in the agony column related to either of our dead men, but Holmes was adamant. The address provided in response to Holmes' telegram was a tidy and unassuming boarding house, the landlady a quiet sort with an uncanny similarity to Mrs. Hudson in what she would bear from her tenants.

After a genial conversation over tea and crumpets, she escorted us to the missing man's rooms. They were positively crammed with curios, every available surface covered with the knickknacks the man collected during his many travels. There were Dutch ceramics, a pair of oddly dressed figures with vaguely Oriental features, and silks from India among many other things I couldn't identify despite my own travels. "He just loved a curiosity," she said indulgently, "and he hired out the cleaning so I wouldn't have to worry about breaking something irreplaceable."

"Surely if he had the means to hire a cleaner, he could afford a place of his own," I protested.

"Priorities, Watson," Holmes said, his keen eyes no doubt taking in more detail than I could observe. "He valued his journeys, and this remarkable collection. Would it trouble you, my kind lady, if I examined his wardrobe?"

"By no means, examine all you like. I was so very worried when his last box wasn't followed by the man himself within a week or so. It was most unlike Reginald, I assure you."

We had already examined the contents of that box and the five others Mr. Reginald Smith had sent ahead during his tour of the Americas. Where he would have put it all, I couldn't imagine.

Holmes did not take long in the man's bedroom, and within a quarter hour we were on a train home. "Well," I said when Holmes did not speak. "That was an interesting visit."

"Tell me your thoughts on the matter, Watson."

I skimmed over my notes once again. "It makes sense that the son of a clergyman would develop a penchant for traveling, as that is something a clergyman cannot often do. What did you find in his clothes?"

"Exactly what I expected to find. You'll remember the single remarkable feature of the first body's clothing was that there were no singular defining features. All of the pieces appeared to come from different sources."

"So he collected clothing like he collected curiosities. Nothing fit quite right because it wasn't made for him. What a peculiar fellow," I mused. "But Holmes, there is something I still don't understand."

"What is that?"

"How did he come to be amongst the medical curiosities?"

"That, my dear Watson, remains a mystery even to me."


End file.
